


And this has been hard enough on you (I know it's been hard enough on me)

by hope_calaris



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Allergies, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_calaris/pseuds/hope_calaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur’s buildings aren’t supposed to waver. They’re supposed to be tall and strong, all elegant lines, and sometimes they fold into neat little quadrates, but they do not waver. Not even the slightest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And this has been hard enough on you (I know it's been hard enough on me)

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The moment unicorns are real, I make money with this. Title was taken from the song “Hard enough” by Brandon Flowers.

“I feel sick just looking at this“ are Eames first words upon opening his eyes in the dream.

Ariadne doesn’t answer, just tilts her head and tries to make sense of the architecture in front of her. “It’s not too bad,” she states. Arthur likes sharp lines and smooth surfaces, and that’s exactly how the city in front of them looks -- a maze of white and silver, reflecting the bright sunlight.

“Take two steps and if you end up in a paradox you’ll eat your words. God, I hate it when Arthur’s the architect. Little fucker is way too much in love with his paradoxes,” he mutters and cautiously takes one step further down the stairs leading to an open square surrounded by seemingly endless skyscrapers.

“I like his paradoxes. The Penrose stairs are pretty cool,” Ariadne chirps next to him and takes two steps at the same time.

“Yeah … just wait until you get stuck in one of his Necker cubes, honey, and have no idea which wall is where. Shitload of fun, I can tell you, most of all if he somehow manages to turn all your dreamed-up weapons into rubber ducks so you can’t end your misery.”

“Rubber ducks?” Ariadne sounds like he just told her Santa is real.

Eames smirks. “I always knew he isn’t as uptight as he likes us to - “

“Is that building _wavering_?” Ariadne interrupts him and points up into the sky. Eames squints and actually takes a step back, because -- yes -- the skyscraper is wavering.

“Huh,” is all he can say at first. Arthur’s buildings aren’t supposed to _waver_. They’re supposed to be tall and strong, all elegant lines, and sometimes they fold into neat little quadrates, but they do not waver. Not even the slightest.

“Do you think he’s testing how he can work the architecture with the new mix?” she asks, eyes still transfixed on the moving building.

Eames has no answer to that, only the nagging feeling that Arthur would never work architecture so that it bends in perfect curves. It’s just not his style. He would create new paradoxes out of thin air to see the limits of the new Somnicin mix -- and to annoy Eames to no end --, not merely contort shapes. But it’s only when the building bends so much that it cracks in half and seconds later bursts into myriads of gray particles, in which Eames and Ariadne get thrown hundreds of feet away to land on cushy concrete that Eames knows something is definitely wrong.

“We have to find Arthur!” he bellows at Ariadne and scrambles to his feet.

“Why? What’s happe - “

“We don’t have time for this,” he yells and drags her away with him.

They find Arthur two blocks away with half of the buildings vaporized into dust.

“Arthur, what’s going on?” Eames screams at the top of his voice over the sound of destruction. Ariadne blinks in confusion, because Eames is still clutching her hand and refuses to let her go and her throat aches. Everything is too loud and the sun has long vanished behind a curtain of dust, leaving the city enshrouded in bleakness.

By now she’s used to the weirdest of dreamscapes, but what makes her heart constrict in fear this time is Arthur. He looks straight ahead, his eyes unseeing, but what is worse is that he doesn’t react to Eames. Usually, _all_ remarks by Eames get at least some kind of reaction, even if it’s only pointed ignorance. Eames’ hand tightens in frustration and anger. It starts to hurt.

It’s Cobb’s appearance -- looking exactly as confused and crumpled as Ariadne feels -- that stops her from shouting at Eames. Instead she shouts at Cobb. “What the heck is going on?”

Cobb ignores her and goes straight to Arthur, shaking his shoulders. “Arthur -- Arthur! Are you with me?”

“Please tell me you tested the new mix beforehand,” Eames says coldly and jerks Cobb around. The movement propels Ariadne into a forward movement and she’s crushed into Eames’ side. She’s getting really angry really fast, because of course this bunch of testosterone fueled idiots don’t see any reason to explain anything to her. Well, Arthur would, but he doesn’t look as if he even knows his own name right now. He looks lost and scared and his mouth moves relentlessly. She strains to hear him over the kaleidoscope of sound and tears herself away from Eames grip when she realizes Arthur’s wheezing.

“Arthur,” she whispers over the angry shouts of the two men behind her.

“Something’s wrong, Ari,” he says so quietly she barely hears him, but her knees go weak with the knowledge that he still recognizes her.

A shot suddenly echoes off the remaining buildings and Ariadne whirls around to see Eames looming over the crumpled form of Cobb, still holding a gun in his hands. Her eyes go wide. “Eames! What the hell are you - “

“Don’t worry,” Eames says in an oddly soft way, but his words are not directed at Ariadne. He swings the gun in Arthur’s direction and looks straight at him. “Cobb will take care of you, darling.” Then he shoots again and Arthur’s lifeless body falls to the ground.

Ariadne stares at it in muted horror and can’t move a muscle. The dream starts to collapse even more around them, concrete breaking away, creating bottomless pits instead.

“Honey,” Eames starts and reaches for her.

“No!” she shouts and slaps his hand away. “Stay away from me, Mister Eames.” Then she steps over the edge.

\---

As far as she can tell, people lie when they tell her that waking up will feel less weird over time. She still feels like somebody shoved her out of the path of a car every time, her heart fluttering with all the adrenaline and her mind buzzing alive with hundreds of impressions not her own. She feels slightly dizzy and restless all at the same moment and this time is nothing has changed, but she’s still up in seconds, her wrist entangled with the line from the PASIV. Raised voices draw her to the furthest cot, and it takes her a moment to realize that they’re coming from Eames and Cobb. She rips the line from her wrist, doesn’t register the pain in the slightest, and stumbles the short way to the men.

“Easy, kid,” she hears Cobb say and stops dead in her tracks. He sounds scared, and that’s something that doesn’t fit into her world. Dominic Cobb is many things: angry, focused, sometimes bitter and too old for his age, less and less lost -- for which she will be eternally grateful -- but not scared. She inches a bit closer so Eames doesn’t block her view anymore and she sees Arthur. A shivering, wheezing mess in Cobb’s arms, his hair out of place, his tie loosened and the top buttons of his shirt open. “Easy, kid,” Cobb murmurs again and if she didn’t know it any better she’d swear that Eames grinds his teeth next to her.

“Get a glass of water, Eames,” Cobb says without taking his eyes of Arthur, who’s ignoring them all for the sake of concentrating on getting enough air in his lungs. Eames mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like a litany of curses, but goes anyway.

“Is he … is he going to be okay?” Ariadne asks and resolutely overlooks the fine tremble in her voice when she sits down on the floor, only a touch away from the cot.

Nobody answers. Eames comes back and hands the glass to Cobb. It takes Arthur some tries, but with Cobb’s help he finally manages to take a few sips without spilling too much, and Ariadne feels the knots in her stomach loosening.

“I need tea,” Eames finally declares and a cursory look from him makes it clear that Ariadne would be wise to have the same urge. She doesn’t want to leave Arthur, who looks to be asleep with Cobb’s hand in his hair, but she has the feeling that Eames is the person most likely to provide answers she won’t get from the other men at the moment.

“I need answers,” she whispers under her breath when she follows Eames to the small kitchenette. There, she leans against the counter and crosses her arms in front of her. “So?”

“Bad reaction to the new mix,” Eames says -- as if this explains everything. It doesn’t, because Ariadne didn’t spend half her life inside dreams.

“But I thought Cobb has tested it before?”

“Apparently he was the only one,” Eames says angrily and switches on the water kettle. “And everybody reacts differently to a drug cocktail. This one didn’t sit well with Arthur.”

“Shouldn’t we get him to the hospital then?” Ariadne asks and nervously bites into her lip.

“Honey,” Eames says and she hates him a little bit for the patronizing voice he uses, “half of the stuff in this cocktail is illegal. Even Saito can’t buy a hospital so fast it wouldn’t raise flags with the police. No, we have it under control.”

She actually snorts. “Under control? You call _that_ under control?”

“He’s not dead, right? With our profession, sometimes that’s all we can ask for,” he says and pours the hot water into two cups. She watches the teabags rise according to the water level and knows that her eyes shimmer with tears. Angrily, she holds them back. She’s not a little girl anymore, she can take this. Eames hands her one of the steaming cups and she warms her hands on it.

“You’ve seen it before. A dream acting weird because of a bad reaction of the dreamer, I mean,” she says and it’s not a question. He drinks his tea and smiles thoughtfully.

“Yes, I have. It didn’t always end pretty.” And suddenly he reminds her of Cobb, of the way he sometimes looks as if he’s seen it all, the beginning, the end, and the middle. All mysteries of the universe solved, all stories told. It’s a sad thought and she swallows hard.

“I’m sorry for before,” she whispers.

“Don’t be, honey, you are a good friend” he says and bends down to kiss her hair, and for once she doesn’t mind being treated like a little girl. “And now go and grab a blanket for Arthur. He will be a nuisance when he gets a cold on top of this.”

She snorts when he wiggles his eyebrows and goes looking for some cookies. It takes her two minutes to locate the green blanket she brought with her to the warehouse, because this place is drafty as hell. Quietly, she walks over to Arthur’s cot and drapes him with the blanket. He looks better than before, his chest moving in a resemblance of a regular rhythm and his eyes closed in sleep.

“Thanks,” Cobb says in a low voice and for all that Arthur looks relatively fine, Cobb looks like hell found and dragged him down with it. His hand is still entangled in Arthur’s unruly hair.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” she says and he smiles ruefully.

“I get the feeling we had this conversation before.”

“Well, it’s still true. It’s not like the new mix came with a label saying _Don’t give it to Arthur or bad things will happen_.”

Behind her, Eames snorts. She turns around and frowns at him, but he simply stuffs a cookie in her mouth. All she can do now is growl around it in her mouth -- but the cookie is actually really delicious.

“You want me to take you back to the hotel once sleeping beauty here rises again?” Eames asks Cobb.

“Thanks, but I have it covered,” Cobb answers.

“That wasn’t exactly a question, my dear.”

“I said -- ”

“I know what you said, I just chose to ignore it, because you shake like a leaf. We don’t want to get poor Arthur here in an accident on top of an allergic reaction to a drug mix you deemed safe, now do we?”

Ariadne knows she’s staring. Eames is probably able to see cookie leftovers glued to her teeth with her mouth hanging open like this. Outright meanness isn’t how Eames operates, he’s the one to go to for wickedness hidden in a smile and playful banter with enough truth in it to sting.

Fortunately, Arthur chooses that exact moment to stir again, and Cobb’s death glare pointed at Eames immediately melts into something that makes Ariadne’s heart flutter -- she just doesn’t understand why exactly.

“Ari, you have cookie crumbs on your lips,” Arthur tells her in a raspy voice and for a moment she’s so confused it takes her a moment to realize what he’s talking about. Then she laughs from the bottom of her heart and hugs him.

“Don’t ever do this again, you hear me? I’m a delicate girl and don’t take well to this kind of excitement,” she whispers into his hair and he pats her head.

“I’ll try my best.”

“As heart-warming as this is, we definitely should get you into a real bed, Arthur,” Eames says and she can actually hear the smirk in his voice when she straightens up again.

“Are you hitting on me, Mister Eames?” Arthur says with a raised eyebrow, still sounding wheezy. Eames just whistles and grins.

“After you,” he says then and watches carefully for any sign of imbalance when Arthur stands up.

“Please, I’m okay,” Arthur says when he notices it and takes the coat Cobb hands him. It’s only now that Ariadne realizes Cobb’s been gone for a moment.

“If you say so. Just don’t expect any mercy from me when you stumble over your own feet and I upload the pictures to facebook.”

“You’re on facebook?” Ariadne asks Eames surprised, momentarily distracted. For some reasons that thought had never entered her mind. She has a hard time connecting web 2.0 or whatever facebook is with Eames and his paisley shirts.

“Honey, you do realize that I work inside dreams, don’t you?” Eames shots back when he holds the door open for all of them. “Facebook is like the Stone Age compared to that.”

Ariadne spends the short ride back to the hotel in embarrassed silence.

“Give me a day and I’ll have hacked his account. I’m sure I still have this picture of him drooling on the desk somewhere on my laptop,” Arthur whispers when they get out of the car. She silently laughs and squeezes his still too cold hand while they take the elevator upstairs.  
She hasn’t seen Arthur’s hotel room yet, because she usually sleeps in and they never quite manage to leave or return to the hotel at the same time, and she’s curious what it looks like. Probably all sharp lines and painstakingly organized like his architecture.

To say she’s surprised when she finally enters his room would be an understatement. The room is not messy by any means, but it’s not as if somebody takes the time to tidy everything up anytime they leave either. A jacket is carelessly thrown over a chair, a pair of shoes peek out from under the bed, and a photo frame with two kids in it is placed on the nightstand. Ariadne squints, because she recognizes them, and she knows Arthur is incredibly fond of Philippa and James and has known them all their life, but a photo frame on his nightstand seems a bit over the top.

“Thanks for all your help, but you can leave now,” Arthur says gently, and she stares at him. At him and Cobb, who’s standing so close to the point man that something suddenly clicks in her brain. The jacket, which would be too big on Arthur, the pair of shoes that are too muddy for his liking --

“Oh,” she exhales and says nothing else. It’s Eames who bids their goodbyes and a “Get well, darling”, and then they’re standing in the hotel floor, the door shut behind them, and she kicks him in the shin. Hard.

“Ouch!” he yells and then adds some obscenities for good measure while he holds his leg. “God damnit woman, what was that for?”

“You couldn’t have said something?” she yells back with her arms crossed in front of her. “Like _Oh, honey, by the way, Cobb and Arthur -- they’re not only the extractor and his point man_.”

“I thought you knew!”

“I … I knew? Do I _look_ like I knew?” She throws her arms in the air. “I thought you and he … you and he … with all the banter -- oh, for god’s sake.”

“Me and Arthur?” Stupefied, he stares at her. Then he breaks out into a grin and laughs really loud. She growls at him and storms off.

“Oh, come on! You’ve got to admit that this is funny,” he yells and runs to catch up with her. “In retrospect, anyway.”

“You want a hit to where it really hurts?”

He grimaces and is quick to shake his head. “I’m sorry, okay? I really thought it’s obvious. Once Cobb got over Mal and Arthur over the stick in his butt and they both together over the supposed guilt to betray a dead woman, it was only a matter of time.”

“A matter of … you’re unbelievable, Mister Eames.”

“Hey, it’s not me who wrote this sappy love story.”

“God, I need a drink.”

“That, honey,” he says and drapes an arm over her shoulder, “is an excellent idea.”

“From your minibar,” she adds with a smirk and holds his arm when he tries to flee.

One night spent in drunken stupor, two hangovers from hell, five aspirin, more coffee than can be healthy for any living person and a week later, Eames leaves a coffee shop and barely avoids spilling the overpriced hot beverage when he runs into Arthur.

“Don’t do that,” he says and takes a sip of coffee to calm his nerves.

“I need you to tell Dom that it wasn’t his fault.”

“You need -- what?”

“I need you to tell Dom that it wasn’t his fault.”

“I heard that the first time around.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I … stop that. No mind games with your own team.” Eames sighs. “Tell me the part of the conversation we apparently had before I was present, will you?”

Arthur rolls his eyes as if the topic of this talk should be obvious -- it isn’t, just for the record. Eames takes another sip from his coffee. “You blamed him for my reaction to the new drug mix.”

Eames raises an eyebrow. “So? Ultimately, it _was_ his decision to try some new compounds.”

“Don’t be difficult, Eames.”

“What? Now I’m a naughty 6 year-old who can’t speak his mind when things go wrong? I’ve seen enough drug tests to know how ugly they can end if you don’t pay attention to the detail.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been there as well, Eames.” Arthur grits his teeth. “But Dom isn’t some military boss who doesn’t care for the foot soldiers, he’s my friend.”

“And you’re my friend!” Eames explodes and the coffee slips his fingers and spills on the concrete. Eames curses. “Now, look what you made me do. This stuff is expensive enough as it is.”

“I’ll buy you another one if you tell Dom that I’m okay and he’s got nothing to worry about.”

“Well, _are_ you okay?” Eames asks, and Arthur squirms a bit under his scrutinizing look.

“Still a bit tired and achy, but nothing another week won’t cure,” Arthur finally says and Eames nods. He doesn’t exactly like what he hears, but it’s better than a lie.

“I still don’t get why you need me to ease Cobb’s conscience. A guilt-ridden, ready to do everything for you-boyfriend sounds like heaven on earth to me,” Eames says and scratches his head. He nearly misses the flicker of movement to the side of Arthur’s eyes, but he didn’t become so successful on the other side of the law for nothing. He spots the car parked on the corner and if he had another coffee that would have been dropped now as well. “Bloody hell, Arthur, is that -- ?” Arthur nods and sighs. “Is he _tailing_ you?” Eames’ about to stand on his toes to get a better look, but Arthur tugs on his cuffs and holds him down.

“He’s just worried.”

Eames whistles. “He’s creepy.”

“He’s not,” Arthur insists.

“If you say so.” Eames shrugs and tilts his head. “Well, it is a little bit adorable.”

“It’s annoying and … okay, a little bit adorable also,” Arthur admits and blushes. Eames has to resist the urge to pat him.

“Don’t look like that!”

“Like what?” Eames asks and feigns innocence. He’s pretty good at it, what with him being a forger and all.

“Like you think of me as a little kitten you want to cuddle.” Apparently his hastily schooled features didn’t fool Arthur. Of course not, Arthur is the point man. He could also kill him and the world would be none the wiser.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, darling.”

“So, we do have a deal, right?”

“If you buy me that coffee.”

Arthur gives him ten Euro. “Buy it yourself, I’ve got places to be.”

“Oh, naked places?” Eames asks and wiggles his eyebrows. Arthur looks like he wants Eames to die on the spot, which only makes his heart grow fonder of the point man -- he can’t help it. He’s weird that way.

“No, if you need to know … I have to tell Ari to stop calling Saito so he buys a hospital in every city we work in.”

“She does that?”

“Judging from the mails I get from Saito asking me for the specific requirements for the hospitals, yes,” Arthur answers.

“My girl,” Eames says and positively beams.

“Don’t tell me you encouraged her.”

“Of course not! She would probably kick me in the shin again if I tried to tell her what to do.”

Arthur frowns and runs a hand over his tired eyes. “When did she kick you in the shin?”

“Eh … long story,” Eames says. “Say, love, do you want me to talk to Ari? You look like you could need some rest.”

“I don’t need rest,” Arthur angrily shoots back.

“You can call it one-to-one-time with Cobb, if it makes you feel better?” Eames suggests.

“Something’s wrong with you, I hope you know that,” Arthur says and frowns, but doesn’t argue with him. A dead giveaway of how shitty he really must feel.

“Wouldn’t be in the business if not, darling,” Eames answers with a smile and grabs for his phone. Cobb picks up on the first ring. “Can you quit your stalkerish ambitions for a moment, Cobb, to pick up your boyfriend? He looks about ready to keel over - “

“Eames!” Arthur yells and reaches for the phone. He stumbles and Eames has a hard time keeping Arthur’s shivering body upright while not letting the phone drop.

“Say again?” he asks Arthur.

“I hate you,” Arthur mumbles into Eames’ coat.

“Likewise,” Eames says with warmth in his voice, the phone still in his hand. “Oh, and by the way, Cobb, you couldn’t know our darling here would react the way he did to the new mix, so stop beating yourself up over it and have the hot make-up sex already, will you?”

“Oh, God,” Arthur groans. “I really, really hate you.”

“Shh, you don’t mean that,” Eames whispers happily and waits for Cobb to drive over to them.

\---

 _stop bothering the rich guy, hun. a’s not amused._

 _Saito says he doesn’t mind. He’s rich enough._

 _i mean it. don’t make me come over._

 _How’s your shin?_

 _if i say please? will buy chocolate_

 _Only dark. My room. At 7. Bring red wine._

\---

“This isn’t working,” Ariadne says on the phone that Eames was stupid enough to pick up at -- he looks at his watch -- six in the morning. He groans and falls back into the pillows. She can’t be serious. They’re not working -- haven’t since that fateful day with the new mix -- and by all rights she should be asleep. Isn’t she the one who likes to greet everybody with a cheerful “Good morning!” at three in the afternoon?

“I hate you,” he murmurs and shoves an unbidden memory of Arthur in a faraway corner of his mind.

“You’ll get over it,” she says with a conviction she shouldn’t be able to muster at such a young age.

He contemplates throwing the phone out the window, but he’s not really fond of paying the price for the broken glass, so he sighs and silently waits for her to continue -- which she doesn’t. He frowns. “Honey?”

“Huh?”

“You called me for a specific reason, didn’t you?” He leaves the threat to shoot her in the gut the next time they’re dreaming if this isn’t important unspoken. She will figure this out on her own, she’s a smart girl.

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Well?”

“Cobb is sleeping!” she exclaims angrily and he winces because his aural sense doesn’t take kindly to clamor this early.

“At least one of us is,” he says and runs a hand through his mussed hair. Apparently, Ariadne has spent too much time with Arthur and picked up his bad habit of starting conversations without the intended counterpart.

“No, you don’t understand,” she says and exhales in a long-suffering sigh. As if Eames is extra dense on purpose.

“And you don’t explain,” he shoots back. “So Cobb’s sleeping … I don’t see the problem here.”

“He’s sleeping, but not with Arthur.”

Eames winces and holds the phone away from his ear. “Too much information, do you know that phrase?” he yells in the general direction of the speaker. It’s at this moment somebody knocks at his apartment door -- he can stand hotel rooms only a certain amount of time, then he needs something akin to his own place. He throws the phone on the bed and gets up. Anything is better than having to listen to Ariadne’s complaints about Arthur’s and Cobb’s sex life. Okay, so he made some inappropriate innuendos about that as well, but never this early in the morning and never with a serious undertone in his voice. Maybe he can ask Arthur to perform his rubber duck-trick on Ariadne the next time they’re all dreaming.

“You threw me away!” It’s Ariadne who’s standing in front of his door, the phone still in hand. She doesn’t wait for him to invite her in, she just brushes past him right into the kitchen.

“Technically, I threw the phone away,” he corrects her and wonders if maybe he should get dressed. Finally, he decides against it. She invaded his space after all, so she can live with him in crumbled underwear.

“I need coffee,” she says without paying attention to him or his underwear. It’s only when the coffee machine is happily screeching away that she looks up again. “And you need to talk to Cobb.”

“Honey, under no circumstances will I have a conversation with Cobb about his sex life that involves any kind of seriousness.”

She looks at him as if he’s ten kinds of crazy, and he begins to wonder the same. “Who said anything about sex?”

“I … you … okay, I give up,” he says, grabs two mugs from a cabinet and fills them with coffee.

“I went to the warehouse three nights ago because I couldn’t sleep -- ”

“Aaw,” he interrupts her with a knowing smile and drowns half of the mug, “somebody’s missing building impossible things.”

She glares at him, but also blushes a little when she takes a large gulp of coffee. “So, yes, maybe I do miss it. Sue me. Anyway, I found Cobb there, sleeping, not hooked up to the PASIV or anything, just sleeping. He didn’t notice me, but I was curious, so I went again and he sleeps there every night!”

“And?” he asks and blinks the sleep out of his eyes.

“And?” Ariadne snips her fingers against his forehead. “He should be with Arthur! Cuddling with him or … ” She blushes again, and Eames thinks it’s adorable. “Did you hear from Arthur in the last few days?”

Come to think of, he hasn’t. He just assumed that they would all take a short break untill Cobb had nursed his point man back to health. “You think he’s okay?” he asks and there’s a hint of worry in his voice.

“Drink some more coffee to wake up, will you? Of course he’s not okay. Otherwise Cobb wouldn’t sleep all alone in the warehouse. It’s drafty as hell.”

Eames snorts, as if that’s the only reason Cobb shouldn’t sleep in the warehouse. “I still don’t see why I need to talk to Cobb. I already told him it’s not his fault.”

“Apparently he doesn’t believe you.”

“Well, I never said he’s particularly smart.”

“Eames!” Ari says and elongates the vowels in a way he can never resist -- and the little brat knows that all too well.

“You go and talk to him!” he pouts.

“I didn’t accuse him of risking his lover’s life,” she reminds him and he grimaces. He also knows when it’s better to admit defeat. He drinks the last of his coffee and goes to look for something to wear before he drives over to the warehouse.

Ariadne’s right, he thinks, it is drafty as hell. Cobb looks very surprised to see him for a moment, then his face is back to the collected mask he’s so fond of.

“I hope you had a really, really bad night’s sleep,” is Eames’ way of greeting the other man.

“Hello, Eames,” Cobb says and doesn’t even try to hide the blanket and the pillow on the cot. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Eames grumbles and sits half down on Arthur’s neatly organized desk, promptly disarranging most of the stacks of paper. Eames nearly feels bad for him, but the reaction showing on Cobb’s face is reason enough to shove some folders from the desk as well. “I had an early call from Ari today. Really early, I mean. Maybe you can shed some light on the whole situation?”

“I don’t understand,” Cobb replies without any outward emotion, but Eames sees how his eyes flicker to the mess on Arthur’s table. He smirks.

“I know I question your intelligence sometimes, well, most of the times, but I actually thought you’re smarter than this, Cobb.”

“I still don’t -- ”

“Why are you sleeping in the warehouse when I’m pretty sure you actually have somebody waiting for you in your hotel room?”

Cobb’s eyes grow stone-cold and lesser men would probably have withered under the glare, but Eames doesn’t give a shit right now. He was woken up way too early, doesn’t have anything but coffee in his stomach, and if he doesn’t make Cobb see reason Ari will kick him in the shin. Again. Thanks, but no thanks.

“You don’t understand,” Cobb murmurs.

Eames has to laugh when he hears this. “Really? That’s all you can come up with? Because, as far as I understand you’ve felt guilty since you proposed to try out the new mix and now you leave Arthur alone following some misguided sense about honor or green tea as far as I care.”

“Green tea?”

“You know what I mean,” Eames growls and actually feels sorry when Cobb more or less deflates right in front of him. He looks worn thin around the edges, and Eames suddenly feels fear settle in his stomach. “He’s alright, Arthur, I mean … he didn’t throw you out or anything?” he asks and wonders how Ariadne will react if he tells her the news. She will probably kick him in the shin out of frustration. On the other hand, he simply can’t imagine Arthur abandoning Cobb for this. Not for something so petty compared to the shitty years they put behind them side by side.

“He didn’t kick me out,” Cobb finally answers and Eames nearly whistles in relief.

“Then you’re right -- I don’t understand.”

“I promised,” Cobb whispers. “After Fischer, I promised I wouldn’t hurt him ever again.”

Eames does what any reasonable being would do in this situation. He rolls his eyes, takes a folder and throws it at Cobb. “I take it back, you’re not really smart at all. In fact, you’re probably the dumbest person I know -- and I know _Bambi, the wannabe forger_.” He points to the door. “You have a minute to grab your stuff and walk out of this door to Arthur and apologize to him. And I don’t mean for ordering the drug test, I mean for abandoning him because you’re scared.” He sees the hesitation still flicker in Cobb’s eyes. “I do have a weapon on me, just so you know, and I’m not afraid to threaten you with it. Or I could just call Ari, she has a mean kick.”

Cobb squints a little, but finally he takes his coat and walks right past Eames, and if he hears a quiet “Thank you” he probably imagined it.

  
\---

 _mission a’plished_

 _Text messages don’t mean freedom from spelling/grammar._

 _MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. satisfied?_

 _Only if I hear it from Arthur._

 _demanding little …_

 _That’s whisky this time. My room. You have 10 minutes._

\---

The sky an endless, washed-out gray, rain pelting against the window -- that’s how it’s supposed to look like, Arthur thinks. Instead the people outside enjoy one of the last nice days this year, and although it’s cold outside, at least the sun is shining. Nevertheless, he shivers and draws the blanket tighter around his body. He hates this. Hates that he still isn’t up to par, that he sleeps half the day away, that he’s not hungry and has to force himself to eat at least one meal in 24 hours, but most of all he hates that Dom isn’t here. He isn’t used to this anymore. He’s stayed with Dom for years, before Fischer and after, when everything changed. It’s not that he isn’t capable of being alone, he just doesn’t want to do it anymore. He’s about to give up on his lunch and simply throw it away when the doorknob to his -- their, he reminds himself -- hotel room turns, and he grabs for his weapon hidden in the nightstand.

It’s Dom he’s pointing the weapon at and it takes him a few moments to lower it. He frowns when Dom chuckles quietly.

“You know, Eames threatened to shoot me and now you greet me with a weapon,” Dom says and lets his coat fall to the floor. “I probably deserve it.”

“Eames threatened to shoot you? Why?” Arthur asks while he hides his weapon in the nightstand again -- you never know.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been an idiot. And I’m sorry.”

“Do you only say this so Eames doesn’t shoot you?” Arthur wants to know, because he has to.

“What? No, of course not. I … Arthur … ,” he whispers.

“At least you still know my name,” Arthur snorts and doesn’t flinch when he sees Dom’s hurt expression. Dom doesn’t have any right to be hurt. He didn’t spend the last few days wondering if the other would come back or if it what they had, if Arthur wasn’t just good enough to keep Dom with him.

“Please -- ”

“No,” Arthur says angrily. “You don’t get to say _please_. Not after you left me here in the middle of the night. Not after you wouldn’t talk to me in the warehouse. If you don’t want to … work with me that’s okay, just have the guts and tell it to my face.”

Dom now looks as if somebody actually shot him in the foot. “No, no … Arthur. I want to come back, but not only to work with you -- if you still want me after all, that’s it.” And he sounds totally honest and Arthur really, really wants to stay angry with him, but compared to all the other things Dom has done and for which Arthur has long forgiven him, this doesn’t even make it the top five.

“So tell me, why did you leave in the first place?” He swallows and averts his eyes. “Because I can’t work with the new compounds?”

For a minute, everything is silent and Arthur closes his eyes, his worst fears coming alive. Then Dom is invading his personal space, his eyes fierce and the lines of his mouth set in grim determination. “You fool,” he whispers hot against Arthur’s cold cheek. “I don’t give shit about any compounds … what I do care about is the promise I gave you and I’m sorry, so sorry that I hurt you.”

And suddenly it all makes sense in Arthur’s mind and he shakes his head. “I thought Eames already told you that this wasn’t your fault in front of the coffee shop.”

“Maybe he’s right and I’m not the smartest man around.”

“So,” Arthur rolls the word around on his tongue like it’s something forbidden and Dom raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember what else Eames said that day?”

Dom smirks and shoves the blanket from Arthur’s shoulders. “I think I remember,” he says quietly and bends forward to kiss Arthur.

\---  
 _  
Thanks for everything, Ari. A._

 _what bout me? ari’s druuuunk… me did the work._

 _Eames?_

 _you 2 had sex already? or do we hate on C?_

 _No hate. None at all. See you tomorrow at work._

 _*high5*_

 _Go to sleep, Mister Eames._

  
\- fin

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [after/before](https://archiveofourown.org/works/293159) by [hope_calaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_calaris/pseuds/hope_calaris)




End file.
